


The Visitor

by ggfoye



Series: Feysand One-Shots (Fluff, Smut, Angst) [10]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Book 2: A Court of Mist and Fury, F/M, Flirty Helion, Fluff, Humor, Jealous Rhysand, Jealousy, One Shot, Pre Mating Bond, Territorial Rhysand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggfoye/pseuds/ggfoye
Summary: Helion and his court visit the Night Court. Rhys isn't too happy about all the attention Feyre is getting.One-Shot. Set during Feyre’s first months at the Night Court in ACOMAF.I do not own any of the characters, Sarah J. Maas does.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Helion, Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Feysand One-Shots (Fluff, Smut, Angst) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942270
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this has been sitting on my folder for a while. i wasn’t sure how i felt about it but oh well here it is

The visit had been arranged for that weekend a few weeks before. Obviously, it would take place in the Mountain Palace above Hewn City, the only place in the Night Court where visitors were allowed.

Helion and his court arrived a little before twilight and were greeted by Rhys and his Inner Circle, who welcomed them into the moonstone palace. Around the Day Court High Lord, Rhysand did not have to keep his dark lord facade so thorough, but he still wore his usual, relatively wicked, sarcastic mask.

They all sat around a large table a few servants had settled on the balcony, full of traditional Night Court dishes and various kinds of wine.

"So, Rhysand, I've heard rumors about you stealing Tamlin's bride?", Helion asked, mischievously amused.

"I did no such thing. For once, she's not his property to be _stolen_. And secondly, she's staying here on her own good will," Rhys explained in a dark voice tone, but trying to keep his cool. "You can ask her yourself," he said, tilting his head to motion behind Helion.

As they had previously planned, Feyre showed up only a couple minutes after their guests were already settled in. She walked into the balcony escorted by Nuala and Cerridwen, wearing a gown just like the ones she had used during her time Under the Mountain, only slightly less transparent and daring.

Rhys instantly and grudgingly noticed the surprised and unabashed expression that took over Helion's face. His eyes followed her figure from head to toe, shamelessly gazing. If Feyre was uncomfortable, she didn't let show. She simply smirked softly before stopping and lightly bowing down to Rhys, making her expression switch from a bold one to a more submissive one when facing him—he hated having her do that, though she didn't seem to mind the whole play pretend scheme.

"Feyre, darling, you've met our friend Helion, High Lord of the Day Court."

"I have, but never had the pleasure of addressing him directly. High Lord," she greeted, bowing down way less reverently than how she'd done for Rhysand.

"Come here, my lovely _Cursebreaker_ ," Rhys said, opening his arms to her.

Feyre went around the table to go to him. The Inner Circle kept their unaffected, unfazed mood as she sat down on his lap—what some would usually perceive as highly inappropriate for a dinner table.

"So she's yours now?", Helion asked, curious.

Rhys pretended to think for a second; then turned his head to stare at Feyre like she was the most interesting thing in the world as she nibbled on some grapes she picked up from his plate; his eyes repeatedly dropping to her mouth and absentmindedly licking his own lips. It was part of the act, but he had to _really_ make an effort not to get too lost in it. Part of her wondered just how much of it was just for pretend.

"Yes, Helion, she's _mine_. But she's not under any kind of compulsion, if that's what you're wondering," he said and Feyre chuckled quietly, rolling her eyes a bit and now nipping on a strawberry. "She's free to do whatever she likes—including me," he added, suddenly biting on her earlobe playfully and aware that she had no idea how truthful his statement actually was.

A servant brought in a plate for Feyre and served her food and wine before she could process her body’s reaction to his swift touch. She continued on Rhys' lap for the duration of the dinner, letting him caress her thighs and eventually press light kisses to her shoulder, as they all discussed the upcoming war and reminisced about the old one. She tried to keep her reactions at a minimum, but once in a while a shiver would go rushing down her spine and she had to hold back a whimper or heavy breath.

After the more serious conversations were done, Helion kept making suggestive jokes about taking the trio—Mor, Cassian and Azriel—to bed, as he'd usually do. All three of them laughed and teased him in return, though never taking him seriously.

 _What the hell is wrong with them?_ , Feyre asked Rhysand after opening a tiny breach in her mind for him. _They should just accept it and be flattered that he took an interest._

Rhys scoffed a laugh he wasn't able to hold back, and the whole table looked at him. He simply dismissed their inquisitive expressions and smirked at Feyre for the briefest moment.

At some point after dinner was done they were all spread across the parlor, talking in smaller groups and socializing more freely. Feyre kept at Rhysand's heels the whole time, not being too much at ease in that whole situation—everyone there already knew each other for centuries and she was feeling just a bit uneasy and out of place.

After a while, Feyre decided to step away for some time to give Rhys some space, not wanting to burden him by acting like a dead weight he might feel obligated to carry around. Of course, being ignorant to the fact that he was more than appreciating her constant presence beside him, as if it was the only spot in the room she felt comfortable in.

However, she still walked over to the balcony and leaned over, admiring the view and the still light night sky. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she almost didn't notice when a sun-kissed voice approached her.

"The night here is truly something. The Night Court really does have one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen," Helion commented, eyeing her in a way she could swear had been too suggestive.

"Yes, we do," she answered distractedly.

Helion looked at her curiously and then took his place standing beside her to look over the edge.

"So, you have decided to stay here?"

She chose her words carefully. "I don't see why shouldn't I."

"Still, it must be quite a change of scenery. From the gardens and grass hills to snowy mountains and darkness."

"I guess I've found it suits me better," Feyre shrugged, too tense to seem indifferent.

Helion glanced over to where Rhysand was, then turned to her again.

"I see," he mumbled, seemingly in thought, then inhaled deeply, as if tasting the air. "Interesting."

Feyre didn't want to go deeper into his visibly speculative personal assessments, but she couldn't help herself after seeing his analytical looks. She raised her eyebrows inquisitively and he simply explained:

"You have his scent on you."

She frowned, confused, but also weirdly uncomfortable with where that conversation was heading. "We're around each other all the time."

"Well, yes, but it's more than that."

Something in her expression made him chuckle softly. He clarified, then, "Rhysand has a certain... reputation in Prythian, I'm sure you're aware. The cruel, scathing, dark lord of the night. And yet, here you are. A former fragile human who sacrificed herself for her love, another powerful High Lord, and for a realm that never really cared much for her own. The little girl who stood against the almighty evil queen, and _won_. I'm sure you also had your own selfish reasons, but you did it mostly because you're righteous and inherently _good_.

"And here you are, glued onto Rhysand's tail like you're absolutely sure he's nothing like the ones you've fought against. Like he couldn't—or better, _wouldn't_ control or liquefy your mind with half a thought. Like even though he's parading you around like his pet, he doesn't treat you like one, nor do you feel like it. And what others who see that might kindly perceive it as him being protective of you, I think it's also the other way around, even though you both know none of you need it."

Feyre's heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she could almost hear it from the inside in her ears.

Unsure what to make of that or what to respond, she just said, "Rhysand understands the darkness more than anyone else. So he understands me."

Helion studied her for more time than it would be socially acceptable, but she forced herself to stand her ground and bear his eyes on her. He was definitely one of the most handsome males she'd ever seen, losing probably only to Rhysand.

"You really are nothing like the girl who walked into Amarantha's throne room," he finally said.

"No, I'm not," she murmured.

If sensing her sudden reluctance over discussing the topic or genuinely wishing to bring up the following subject, Helion smiled. "Feel free to visit the Day Court whenever you'd like. I'd be happy to show you around. We are all greatly indebted to you."

Feyre forced out a tight smile. "Thank you for the kind offer. But you don't owe me anything."

"I do. But it's not why I'm inviting you, though."

His eyes held her captive to him, and her mind went blank for a second. He was stunning.

"I'm sure Rhysand wouldn't mind," he said when he perceived her silence as hesitation, and not as the actual quiet daze and bewilderment over his remarkable beauty.

"He wouldn't," she finally said, "and even if he did, I do as I please. I belong to myself."

He smirked. "So I've heard."

The smile that took over her lips came out naturally, before she could even think about repressing it. Helion continued talking loosely to her, and with time made her lose all the awkwardness she was feeling before, being surrounded by strangers.

She had to admit he was a very pleasant and easygoing male. She wasn't one to talk or get along with people she'd just met so easily, but somehow he made it seem very natural and comfortable. His unbidden smugness did not intimidate her—she'd been around Rhysand enough. And because of that he reminded her of the High Lord of the Night himself in some ways. But Helion also had a different kind of liveliness and geniality that made talking to him seem effortless.

Feyre did not bother rejecting his cheeky flirtations. He was just too amusing and boastful to be taken seriously. And honestly, she saw no reason why someone like him would take an actual interest in her—at least, not in her current state. She figured he was only trying to be amicable and charming, so she laughed openly at his brazen advances, lightly keeping the conversation going.

Across the room, however, the atmosphere wasn't as weightless.

"Honestly Rhysand, if you keep staring like that any longer you might accidentally puncture a hole in the back of his head," Cassian murmured in Rhys' ear.

"I don't think it'd be an accident, though," Azriel pointed out.

Feyre seemed enchanted by Helion. And that primal instinct to get his mate as far away from that other male as possible was close to overpowering every sense of his being. Rhysand was suddenly truly terrified with how violent his thoughts had become.

Chatting with Feyre, Helion barely seemed to remember the trio he'd been so eager and intent on pursuing for over decades. They were both laughing and eyeing each other and smiling and Rhys' blood was freezing in his veins.

The magic was writhing underneath his skin in incredible demand. His darkness was kept on a tight leash but hanging only by a thread—it was taking everything in him not to let it run free and wipe out any and every little menace his animalistic instincts sensed could snatch away what was rightfully his on an almost organic level.

But she _wasn't_ his, he had to remind himself. Time and time again. And she'd never be— _especially_ not with that kind of behavior and thinking. He knew very well how scary and disappointing she would find it. She'd seen enough of that kind of possessiveness and brutal jealousy, and more of it would only send her running for the hills in one fell swoop.

Although he could hear his friends discreetly mocking him, they weren't the ones he was most irritated with.

Mor was getting on his nerves with her concerned looks. She'd glance from Helion to him repeatedly, as if just one wrong movement could startle something and she had to be prepared to sprint right in front of them.

Cassian was trying to hold back a laughter while Az monitored the situation from the corner of his eye. Amren acted like nothing was wrong, but at times, she would glance at Helion as if she was about to step in at the slightest sign that Feyre was feeling uncomfortable or violated. In fact, they were all doing so while also trying to keep casually conversing with Helion's court.

Rhysand stood on a corner talking to this female that was the second in command at the Day Court. He was only able to keep up the conversation because he could see inside her mind and know what she expected him to say. Most of his attention, though, was in the balcony where Feyre was standing, laughing unconcerned while the male beside her practically gaped at her.

She was clearly and completely oblivious to what was happening around her. And through the bond, Rhysand could feel her utter amusement and ease, and although he was relieved to see her feeling better and acting looser, part of him resented that he wasn't the one doing it for her.

So while that happened, Feyre was now the one suddenly confused when struck by a wave of sorrow mixed with irritation. Rhysand, out of nowhere, was feeling weirdly disgruntled and she couldn't pinpoint why, because his mental walls were shut tight. She reasoned it was their strange bargain bond sending her some of his sensations without him being aware.

An unexplainable need to comfort and check on him took over her, and she searched for him through the room while Helion told her about the cities in his court. She smiled politely and pretended to pay attention, but her eyes met Rhys’ across the room. He quickly looked away, and continued talking to this other female.

And although he seemed very much at ease, he wasn’t fooling her, because she could _feel_ his extreme disquiet and unrest through their bond. Her eagerness to reach out to him left her strangely reluctant, mostly because she just couldn’t understand why she felt so drawn to him in that moment. But it was something she just wasn’t able to ignore—every cell in her body coaxed her into seeking and taking it upon herself to pull out every scrap and fragment of sadness out of him.

At some point, she would have to face it. And she would have to process and think about what that meant. But in that moment—

 _Mor_ , she tried mumbling into her mind. Feyre scratched her friend’s mental walls softly, putting her essence into it so she’d recognize her. Mor let slip a breach for her. _Can you come here and entertain Helion for a second?_

Mor looked curiously and confused at her from across the room, but Feyre ignored it and pretended not to notice until she came walking towards them.

“Hey, Feyre, care to share the High Lord’s company? You can’t just monopolize him during all his time here, you know.”

Helion chuckled, though seeming slightly disappointed.

“By all means, Mor. I’m not yet familiarized with all fae customs, but I’m sure it’s rather rude of me to keep his delightful presence all to myself,” Feyre blinked at him playfully. “I’ll see myself to the ladies room for a moment, then.”

Feyre stepped out and indeed went to her old chambers for a second, just to maintain the act. Though as soon as she walked in, that thread tied to her chest went taut, and she knew she wasn’t alone.

Rhysand was standing on her balcony, and if it wasn’t for the hint of recognition she felt, she would’ve thought he hadn’t noticed her presence.

She treaded calmly towards him and leaned on the handrail by his side.

“What’s wrong?”, she asked quietly.

“Hm?”, he mumbled, seeming distracted.

“It hurts,” she said, putting her hand over her human heart, “here.”

That had seemed to grab his attention and make him concerned, and he was about to ask _her_ what was wrong, but then he understood. It was the first time he realized she might feel his emotions just as he did hers through their mating bond, even though she probably had no idea why or that that’s what it was. That warmed and pained his chest in the same measure.

“Inconvenient little thing this bond can be, isn’t it?”, he smiled, though a bit bitterly.

Feyre wasn’t fooled. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Feyre,” he said, sounding slightly impatient. “Don’t let my sour petulance get in the way of your evening.”

Feyre then suddenly became uneasy and tense, thinking she might’ve done something wrong, portrayed her part poorly or inappropriately or said something she shouldn’t have.

“Rhys, did I... did I do something?”

His eyes softened at the insecurity and worrying in her voice. “No, Feyre. I mean it. Go. Enjoy your evening. I’ll be right up,” he said gently; but then added, “I’m sure Helion is already fidgeting about in your absence.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, searching for an implication or hidden meaning behind his words, which he’d regretted saying as soon as they’d come out of his mouth.

“Was I not supposed to entertain him?”, she raised her eyebrows.

“You may entertain him however you’d like, Feyre darling.”

Feyre smirked through her slight annoyance and joked, “Is that jealousy I detect, High Lord?”

When Rhys looked away and didn’t answer, the silence extended uncomfortably and she felt the need to clear her throat, eager to get out of there. She was in no way prepared to deal with any of that. Fear crept into her chest at Rhys’ unspoken response.

She wasn’t ready. There was too much void inside her for her to not fear facing her feelings right now.

It was too soon. Too soon, and yet, she was too afraid to lose him if she scared him away now by telling him so.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she said quietly and left the room.

By the time Rhysand returned to their gathering, he’d already regained his composure. He entered the room with his cool, unbothered mask, hands in his pocket while ignoring his family’s watchful eyes on him.

Feyre talked to Helion over glasses of wine, deliberately standing much farther away from him than before—which left him even more brazen in his flirting. She simply laughed and brushed it all aside, not acknowledging he was being serious.

And as much as she noticed Rhysand was back and wearing his usual unconcerned, coldly amused facade, the feeling he was streaming down the bond hadn’t changed.

His sorrow bothered her to no end.

 _You do know I’m not taking him_ seriously _, don’t you?_ , she said as she opened a breach in her mental walls.

 _You do know, though, that he is_ seriously _taking you to bed tonight if you’ll have him, right?_ , he sent back as he poured himself some whiskey.

_I think I’ll pass._

_Didn’t you say our friends should accept his offer and be flattered he’d taken an interest?_

_Well, I’m flattered he’s taken an interest. I’ll still pass on the offer, though._

Rhysand’s answer took a while, but she could’ve sworn a bit of relief had waved through their bond. _Don’t do it on my account._

 _I’m not_ , she thought, battling to stay in character and not lose herself in the middle of her conversation with Helion. He was being extra witty and charming, eyeing her so intensely she was glad her mind was somewhere else, otherwise she’d quickly get uncomfortable.

 _Didn’t his batting bedroom eyes win you over?_ , Rhysand scoffed, and she felt him mentally roll his eyes and chuckle mockingly.

Feyre instantly felt a weight lifting off her shoulders when that nagging feeling left Rhys’ chest. It was like he could breathe more easily again, and so so could she. And so when that comforting ease settled into her, the words left her mind and she barely had time to stop them.

 _Your eyes are much prettier_ , she thought.

Her playfully teasing mental voice came out nowhere near the joking tone she was aiming for. It sounded much more vulnerable and intense than she wished, but Rhysand still laughed.

 _Although, I am confused now. When I thought you were jealous, I’d thought it was of me_ , she said, trying to push past that sudden moment of weakness by taunting him. _Though I guess it makes sense. Day and Night and all that._

He chuckled some more and entered her game, choosing not to bait her too much for that sincere, unexpected—and probably accidental, he thought—flirting. _You flatter yourself too much_ , he said, mentally shaking his head.

_Well, then, if he makes a move, I’ll just tell them we’re a package deal and spring out the window at the last minute._

_You’d do that for me?_ , Rhysand asked in a comically theatrical grateful tone.

_What are friends for?_

They both laughed. Feyre had to cover her mouth discreetly not to let it show on the outside—mainly because Helion was talking about war casualties and it would’ve been deeply unpleasant and difficult to explain why she was finding it funny.

 _Thank you. But I think if that ever came to happen I’d much rather spring out the window with you. Or kick_ him _out._

_Poor Helion._

_He’ll get over it once Cas and Azriel get over themselves._

_What about Mor?_

_Oh, been there, done that once or twice over the centuries. She’ll deny it if you ask her, though._

Feyre glanced at Mor a bit in shock. Her friend seemed to barely acknowledge the stunning male she apparently had already gone to bed with.

 _Having second thoughts?_ , Rhys asked.

 _Not at all. You’re the one I’m going home with tonight_ , she said. A confused and slightly hesitant silence followed, so she added, _Cause, you know, we live together._

Rhys laughed and met her eyes across the room.

_Right. Roomie._

Feyre chuckled softly and Helion raised an eyebrow, which she noticed only a second too late after he spoke, very much aware they had another spectator to their conversation.

“Don’t worry, Rhysand, I don’t have any other plans to try to get under your skin for the duration of my visit. I just figured it’d be fun to see you let some of that darkness flow,” he chuckled, “but I see you’re very much in control tonight, so I’ll just stop teasing you by flirting with your... emissary,” he said, throwing him a knowing look. Then he turned back to Feyre and brought her hand to his lips, “Thank you for the company, regardless, milady. I must say you were lovely, and very, very patient. I would’ve slapped my face an hour ago.”

Apparently, everyone had been listening to him talking, because suddenly deadly silence fell upon the room. Cassian was the first to burst out laughing, then it was almost everyone. Rhysand walked closer and shook his hand, a little harder than necessary, but still playful.

“If you wanted a demonstration of my powers, my dear Helion, all you needed do was ask,” he scoffed, enveloping the male in a blazing haze of chaotic darkness, hiding him away from everybody else.

Feyre gaped at Rhys and touched his arm, concerned, but he just smiled at her, reassuring her it was all fine. The world around them had turned gloom and gelid, though, and not in temperature. No—it felt like the Earth had stopped spinning on its axes in raw, paralyzing fear. The mountain above them shuddered due to the loosened leash on his powers. The only sound coming from the dark cloud that revolved Helion was of teeth chattering swiftly.

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” Helion finally said after a minute. He was panting and had his eyes wide-opened in shock and horror, but he quickly started laughing as soon as he was freed. Only then Rhysand let go of his hand.

“Apology accepted,” Rhys blinked and smirked at him.

As Rhys began walking back to the others, Feyre instinctively tangled both her arms in his, still a bit startled by the little scene he’d made. She only realized she’d been staring at him when he looked at her and smiled smugly. She had to gulp to wake up from the small trancelike state she was in and he laughed when she blinked, snapping out of it.

She put on the most irritated face she could pull at that point, which wasn’t much, and thought to him.

_Show-off._

Rhys simply chuckled and grabbed one of her hands that were around his arm, satisfied with the tickling, cool feeling on his stomach that followed that he realized hadn’t come from him.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave kudos, comments and prompt requests :)


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